


See you in court

by deathorthetoypiano



Series: See you in court [1]
Category: Silk (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathorthetoypiano/pseuds/deathorthetoypiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An autumn heatwave makes Martha really wish she could get away with bare legs in court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See you in court

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime in the middle of series two.

Her feet ached more than she had ever thought possible.

Her throat rasped when she spoke, and had done since the morning, steadily growing worse as she continued to argue, grapple, snap.

She was hot all over, stuffed under layers of gown and wig and suit. The temptation to take off her stockings at lunchtime had been almost too much to resist.  One of those autumn heatwaves that seemed so horrifically unfair, an ambush when the jackets and gloves had already come out, and an extra blanket put on the bed.

But she had a lot of catching up to do - getting silk was only the beginning of it, though of course nobody had told her that before - and being caught, or even merely noticed, bare-legged in court was something she would rather avoid.

She sank to the floor, letting her head fall back against the wall with a soft sigh, hoping that she could trust Caroline to keep quiet about it - she was leaning out of the window with a cigarette, one ankle crossed over the other as she watched passersby.

"First glimpse of the sun," Caroline drawled, "and there's so much bare skin about, it's impossible to stay focused." She turned, holding her cigarette far out, in fear of the smoke alarm, and raised an eyebrow.  Martha squirmed. Of course. She hadn't considered that someone might notice that, despite her restraint, she _wanted_ to bare her legs. That someone might be so good at reading witnesses, that even a few minutes here and there would be enough to read a colleague, too. Really, she ought to have known. After all, it had taken seconds in the same room for her to stall the judge, buying Martha precious time to relax before her first appearance. This would hardly be much of an extension. Caroline smiled, just a little, another quirk of her eyebrow, then turned back to the window, finished her cigarette, and flicked the butt out into the street. She settled into a chair facing Martha, and crossed her legs. "Drink?"

Martha almost bit off her hand at the chance.

  


Martha was drunk, sitting in the half light of the pub garden long after the sun had set and the evening had cooled.  "I thought you'd drink wine or something,” she announced suddenly.  Her own wine had made her brave, and loud.  “I mean really. Gin and cucumber.”  She scoffed, rolled her eyes.  “It's bloody poncey."

Caroline grinned, and held the glass out to her, challenging, but light-hearted, friendly.  "Try it, then tell me it's stupid."

Martha smirked as she raised the glass, trying to ignore the lipstick stains around its edge. Took a sip. "Fuck."  Caroline crowed as she was forced to admit it tasted good.  Took another sip, more like a mouthful this time, almost a dare, meeting her gaze across the rim. "You said it's about impressing him, and impressing me," she said softly. "What did you mean?"

Caroline considered for a minute then smiled wolfishly.  Martha wondered how often she was called wolfish.  Probably quite a lot.  _Concentrate, you asked her a question_.  “It takes different tactics.  I can’t expect you to go for what he does, you know, all that flirtation mixed in with some vicious courtroom tactics.  Playing like the boys, but better.  Posturing and flattery and pretending not to be affected when I win or lose.”  A pause, another mouthful.   She met Martha’s eye, lowered her voice.  “I don’t think the barrister bullshit works on you.”

Martha felt exposed, like she had been read as easily as a book, but it wasn’t unpleasant.  She was intrigued, wondering what would happen if she carried on like this, instead of taking a step back, putting some professional distance between them, whether she would gain an ally by helping her into Chambers, or a rival, or both, or neither.  What either of them might lose along the way.  A brimming glass of red wine appeared in front of her, and she smiled.  “That helps,” she said softly.  She remembered, again, that first day, the way she had defended her, surprised her, shocked her and made her laugh, in the space of a minute.  Nothing had changed, except that she should know to expect it by now.  But still the unexpected kept coming.  She stretched her legs out under the table, suddenly restless, and felt her ankle bump against Caroline’s calf.  “Shit, I –”  But a hand pressed gently against her thigh before she could pull away, and she bit her lip, just a little.

“It’s nothing.”  

But fingertips drifted into the hollow behind her knee, drawing soft circles, and she couldn’t stop herself from sighing, “I hope not.”  She leant back into her seat, but kept her leg where it was, jutting her chin upwards a little.  A challenge, and an invitation.  But Caroline didn’t pursue it, just left her hand there, occasionally scratching lightly at the softest skin with the edge of a nail, catching Martha’s eye then looking away almost coyly as she chattered on about something or other.   But after a while, Martha could take no more teasing, and pressed her thigh against her, took her free hand in her own, ran a thumb over Caroline’s knuckles.  She kissed her mid-sentence, cutting her off, and smiled as she felt her lean in to meet her, then twist to find a better angle, follow as Martha pulled back.  “Come home with me,” she suggested, but Caroline hesitated, looked around and away and anywhere but Martha, until Martha dropped her hand.  All she wanted was to hold her, to kiss her some more, to touch her, and she thought the feeling was mutual, but clearly, despite all the suggestions and flirtations and the hand on her leg, she had misread it.  "I'm sorry.  Forget I said anything."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caroline flinch.  "No.  I won't.  I don’t want you to think that I-" she trailed off and started to inspect her hand, shifting minutely and putting just a little space between them.

"What?" Martha frowned, forced down the squirm in her belly, leant forward, watching her carefully.  Perfectly unreadable, even after all that gin, it made her so desirable and interesting that she almost forgot to listen.

"That I don't want you."  The silence was awkward, so awkward that it blotted out the sounds of the other people arranged around the tables.  “I don’t want to take advantage.”  A pause, and she turned to look at Martha with a wry smile. "It's what I'm always sending people down for."  She reached for Martha’s hand again, began to play with her fingers, bending them and massaging them gently, twisting her rings around, gently tapping the end of her nails, running circles at the base of her thumb.  Martha tried not to swoon, though as her nails made their way up her wrist, unbuttoned her cuff and continued up her arm, all she could do was watch, mesmerised, leaning into her touch.  And then Caroline seemed to win some battle with herself, and was standing up, shaking her head, her curls bouncing tantalisingly.  “Come to mine,” she said finally, decisive.  “It’s closer, and you can leave whenever you like.”  She tugged on Martha’s hand, and led her away from the pub and into the tangle of empty streets.  Martha wanted to ask how she knew it was closer, why she thought she would want to leave, but she was distracted by the way their hips and shoulders bumped together as they walked, the possessiveness of the hand holding hers, the occasional scratch of a nail against her wrist.  After strolling for perhaps fifteen minutes, they turned down an alleyway.  Martha pressed closer to her, cringing away from the walls that were hemming her in, and Caroline smiled as she pushed a gate open and led Martha inside, then unlocked a door and flicked a switch.

Martha followed, and was glad of the light inside, though she hardly had a chance to drop her bag before Caroline was kissing her, untucking her shirt, making her shiver with the ghosts of cold fingers across her belly.  Her head fell back against the wall for a moment, then her own hands came to life, too.

 

 

Martha hit snooze on her phone alarm with her eyes still closed.  Rolled over and felt a sheet tangle around her ankles, wriggled a little and felt another body beside hers.  Paused, then remembered.  And grinned.

“Hello.”  She opened her eyes and saw Caroline watching her, lying on her side, a hand tucked beneath her cheek on the pillow.  They looked at each other for a while in the dim light, blinking, waking up slowly, smiling a little.  Caroline reached for her, running a fingertip down her cheek, then leant over and kissed the end of her nose.  Her hair tickled Martha’s forehead, and only her speed in rolling away and getting up stopped Martha from grabbing her.  “We’ll be awfully late,” she chided, tying a dressing gown around her waist. 

Martha stretched, yawning, and burrowed backward into the pillows.  “How about if we both called in sick?  Nobody would know.”  She thought about it, then laughed.  “Except Billy.”

A pause.  “Will you tell him?”  The echo from the bathroom was tantalising, the promise of her tucked just out of sight almost enough to pull Martha from bed.  Almost, but not quite.  She was too comfortable, and warm, and hopeful, to get up just yet.  She curled up in the middle of the bed with a sigh, remembering as her eyes closed that she had not answered.

Waking again to a kiss pressed to her cheek, a kiss which made her smile so widely that she thought she would burst, she asserted, “I won’t tell him.  But he’ll know.”  Caroline sat on the edge of the bed, then thought better of it, and lay down behind Martha, tucking herself around her even in her suit, curling an arm over her waist, and frowned, clearly interested but seemingly loathe to ask too many questions.  “He knows me so well.  It wouldn’t take long for him to work it out, if I gave him anything to go on.”  Another minute or two passed of looking at each other, sorely tempted, before Martha got up.  She didn’t cover herself as she found her clothes, putting each item on as she found it, and she could feel the dark, clever eyes watching her.  She tried not to smirk or look pleased with herself, but so rarely did she go home with someone, that it was a difficult task.  She went back for her phone, and tugged Caroline to her feet at the same time.  “Come on,” she demanded.  “Time to go.”

 

 

They stepped out into the street and, in the daylight, it suddenly looked familiar where it had looked so alien in the night.  Where she had been utterly lost, she now knew exactly where she was.  She had walked past here countless times.  She whirled and eyed Caroline, who returned her gaze steadily.  “What?”

A long pause.  Martha realised that, the state she was in last night, she was so distracted that she could have been walking up and down in front of her childhood home and not recognised it.  She wondered if Caroline knew.  “Nothing,” she said finally, and smiled widely as she turned to walk in the opposite direction down the street.

As she turned the corner, her phone buzzed in her pocket.  She frowned, and reached for it, wondering who would be texting her at – she checked her watch – 7.15am.  A text message lit up the screen, and her smile nearly split her in two.

I’ll see you in court. CW


End file.
